


cause my baby she's a real peach

by christinaapplegay



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Depression, F/F, References to Depression, au just cause, rated m for the theme not for sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23621056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinaapplegay/pseuds/christinaapplegay
Summary: Beca’s depression and the season that tries to sway her.
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	cause my baby she's a real peach

**Author's Note:**

> ngl, i had some wine and just kinda sat down and did some free-flow type writing so absolutely any and all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> depression is discussed. 
> 
> story title is from the song real peach by henry jamison. 
> 
> enjoy. xx

It starts slowly and without real reason. She notices the numb feeling first. Then the heaviness. It doesn’t worry her too severely. She’s older now and knows how to deal with it. No longer is it debilitating.

When she’s relaxing, listening to music, it’s there but only slightly. Like when your leg starts to fall asleep. You can feel the prickly sensation but it’s not alarming so it doesn’t grab your attention fully just yet.

* * *

  
Beca tells Chloe that she’s feeling down on their bus ride home one day, but not to think too much about it. Chloe puts an arm over her shoulders and nods. The look of love in her demeanor tells Beca that it’s okay.

It’s manageable.

And then it isn’t. And then, briefly, it is.

There’s still no acute reason. It’s just how her brain seems to work.

She’s okay, and she’s happy, and she’s functioning. She can go to work without an issue, she makes her way to the grocery store without worry. She can stay up late with Chloe without feeling guilty and she can share her music without telling herself it’s not worth it. They sustain the ease that comes with loving one another and when Beca decides she wants to paint they go buy canvases and easels and watercolors and in return, Chloe shares her photography and they watch documentaries and go to breakfast on Saturday mid-mornings and there may be a small sense of sadness but it’s not life-threatening anymore.

When it does start to hurt, she has bouts of anger. It becomes directed at Chloe for no other reason than she’s there, sharing 300 square feet of a studio apartment. Thankfully, Chloe doesn’t take it - she tells her when she’s crossed a line, still full of understanding and reassurance because that’s Chloe and Chloe prides herself on empathy.  
  


* * *

She starts to have trouble sleeping. It makes her feel like a kid again. Staring up at the ceiling, trying to force herself to calm down, unable to, not knowing what to do or why she felt like she’s having a prolonged adrenaline rush.

It makes her angry. It shouldn’t still be happening. She takes her medicine, she goes to therapy even though it’s scary and uncomfortable and she lays herself bare. Why then does she lie in bed at night dreading leaving the house the very next day?

She feels anger at Chloe. It’s unfair. To her, to Chloe, and she knows if she doesn’t get it under control Chloe will leave. And she should, she doesn’t deserve a girlfriend who is mad at her for merely existing in a time where Beca’s fighting herself.

She tells herself that she can’t blame Chloe.

She knows Chloe loves her. She has no doubt. If Chloe felt anything less than in love, Beca is sure she wouldn’t be lying beside her. Chloe stays when there are periods of time Beca can barely get through. The love is there and it’s strong when it must be and soft when it needs to be.

With nothing else to do other than modulate her breathing, go on her phone, and try not to wake Chloe (the notoriously light sleeper, she is), her mind wanders to marrying Chloe. It tends to do that. She wants to, she would tomorrow if it made more sense. They’re 23, fresh out of college and can barely afford their studio most months. It didn’t feel right to be married but the idea of marriage felt right. Chloe was hers. She had known Chloe was who she wanted when Chloe proposed to her with a candy peach ring, “because they’re your favorite.” It’s a memory Beca holds close to her heart so she doesn’t have to search for it when she needs to be reminded that she’s loved.

The next day they go for coffee downtown. Beca feels fine. Not great, but there’s something about Chloe’s love that shields her. It doesn’t feel as if she’s in danger when with her. They board the bus, tangling their hands when they find seats. Chloe tells her to pick a song she’s been loving recently, so Beca puts on “Real Peach” by Henry Jamison in a moment of earnestness (her therapist is in her mind’s eye telling her it’s a good move) and there’s a warmth spreading across her chest when Chloe smiles, all teeth and rosy cheeks, and says “Beca, you’re such a softy.”

* * *

She loses her job and it’s the tipping point. Enough to crack her open without an exact way to fix it. It’s not like she has a safety net, after all, who exactly has one in this economy. She has to ask her parents if they can help her cover rent and extra expenses and they help, begrudgingly, because they too have their own bills, but they help and it’s enough to get by for a bit of time until she can secure another job.

The worst part about it is that they let her go without warning. She assumes it’s a drop in her performance, as they don’t say otherwise. It hurts and it’s frustrating and it makes her feel like she’s never going to be able to have it all together.

When they are in bed that night, as close as humanly possible, Beca tucked into Chloe’s chest, arms wrapped around her as tight as can be, Chloe tells her that no one ever has it together, and that life is always going to have some sort of wrench in the plan and that half the time it’s not even your own fault, just how life tends to work. It helps, and it makes her feel less guilty for relying on Chloe for groceries over the next month, but the worry that she’s not going to be able to just simply get over feeling like the world is going to end every few months brings questioning. What’s the point if that’s what life just is?

* * *

It’s a Saturday and they’re eating second-lunch in bed, watching a show Beca can’t quite remember the name of.

Things are good. Beca’s been making music and she spends most of her time with Chloe. They cook close to every meal, they bake a lot, and it’s almost their one year.

Beca’s had four interviews this week alone and one, in particular, seems promising. She waits until it feels appropriate to bring up.

“I think I got a job,” Beca says. She tries to mask sheer excitement by taking a huge bite of pizza.

“Bec!” Chloe says, setting her slice down. “I knew you were gonna get it. I knew you were perfect for it. It’s the one at the station, isn’t it! What radio station wouldn’t want you!”

“Well, hey,” Beca says, laughing as Chloe smiles so widely at her it’s comical. “I said I think. And it’s the one at the library.”

“I’m still so proud of you,” Chloe says, and she kisses her and hugs her.

They fall back into eating and watching their show. Suddenly, Chloe gasps.

“444!” Chloe says, “The time, it’s 4:44!” 

And before Beca can say anything, Chloe’s climbing into her lap, smothering her face in kisses.

“See, Bec, I told you it would be okay.”

Chloe’s kind of crushing her, so Beca pushes on her hips trying to signal that it's too much, stealing a kiss in the process.

“Remind me again what that means.”

Chloe rolls off of her, still smiling, beaming practically. Beca smiles back.

“All is well.”

* * *

Coming out on the other side is always underwhelming for her. It’s gradual, and she works towards that point, so when it happens it’s expected. She feels low and she doesn’t want to so she uses the tools necessary to feel better. It’s a paradigm, working in nearly the same linear pattern almost every time. It’s in the thick of it where it feels like an everlasting malaise.


End file.
